


From the Heart

by tackypanda



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tackypanda/pseuds/tackypanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no way that man can be genuinely, from-the-bottom-of-his-heart good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Heart

It was hard for Vincent to see the good in people, though hell if he didn't try. How could he after enduring the horrors of war, trying to fight for peace back home only for the emphasis to be placed on the fighting rather than the peace, falling in love with someone who never wanted much of a future with him? If love had been involved at all, really - love for country born out of duty, love for someone else born out of... well, it boiled down to duty, didn't it? It seemed like it always would. That was all his parents ever wanted for him, to fufill his duty, the family tradition of giving Lance blood for their fucking country, and follow it to the letter, no matter how questionable, how hard, how soul-sucking. He would never be free of it.

But there _he_ was - this musket-toting, slouch-hat-wearing man as sober as he'd ever seen one, talking about duty born of honor and a genuine desire to protect instead of destroy. Vince wouldn't have believed he was a real person if he hadn't spent the last few hours stumbling around finding off giant bugs 210 years past his prime, and _that_ actually happened if how much he'd bled had been any indication. If they were real, certainly a strapping man with a genuinely good heart could be. Maybe.

He hadn't even really registered the fact that he had stepped into a set of fully functional power armor and shot a fucking vicious monster that could only truly be described by its name ( _Deathclaw!_ ) with a minigun. All he could think about was Preston, firing off shots from the safety of his balcony - only so he could stay alive to continue caring for his people without abandoning the fight completely. He had to be harboring some horrible hidden vice, some despicable secret he was hiding by acting so overwhelmingly affable. His excitement over encountering that original Minutemen statue outside of Sanctuary Hills was nothing shy of genuine, though, his expression so bright and hopeful it made Vincent's chest tighten.

"Your scar..." He mused aloud, really noticing the long pink line running down his left cheek for the first time, and he instinctively rose his fingers to his own, seemingly matching scar.

"Sorry?" Preston said, spinning around to face him, his tone making it sound like he was pulled right out of a daydream. "What'd you need?"

Vince blinked, clearing his throat. "Oh, nothing. Talking to myself."

If the Minutemen needed help - which they definitely seemed to, and then some - he supposed he could stick around long enough to lend a hand. Maybe it was his sense of duty coming back to bite him in the ass - sure, he had his son to look for, but it wasn't like these people were any better off and couldn't use the aid. Besides, Preston was sure to appreciate it. And if they shared the same scar, the same skills with a gun, maybe he could also help these people out of the goodness of his own heart just the same. And if it got Preston to smile again right at him, bright enough to shine some light into his sorry life... well that was just a bonus, wasn't it?


End file.
